Oh, Nature's Noblest Gift, My Grey Goose

So For A Good Old-gentlemanly Vice, I Think I Must Take Up With Avarice.

Dreading That Climax Of All Human Ills The Inflammation Of His Weekly Bills.

Earth! Render Back From Out Thy Breast A Remnant Of Our Spartan Dead! Of The Three Hundred Grant But Three, To Make A New Thermopylæ!

The Basis Of Your Religion Is Injustice. The Son Of God The Pure, The Immaculate, The Innocent, Is Sacrificed For The Guilty. This Proves His Heroism, But No More Does Away With Man's Sin Than A School Boy's Volunteering To Be Flogged For Another Would Exculpate A Dunce From Negligence.

And Life 's Enchanted Cup But Sparkles Near The Brim.